Blog Archives
Musings from the Laundromat: The Glaucoma Man Monologues
Left the house in less than 10 minutes after waking up, dragged the laundry basket into the car, noticed the temperature was already 98 degrees and it was only 7:50 a.m.
I’m tired. So tired and disoriented that I actually had a fleeting panicky feeling that the weekend was over when I woke this morning. Then an internal exhale of relief that it was Sunday.
A night of dream after dream, nightmare after nightmare, had me waking to glance at the clock at strange intervals.
But for once, no bags under my eyes, I think I can owe that to the humidity. If anything, when it’s NOT a ‘dry heat’ in the desert, the moisture in the fiery Summer heat does serve as a lovely wrinkle plumper.
Reached the laundromat and after answering “Sleepy” to glaucoma man’s “How are you?” Proceeded to literally (yes, I’m using it correctly) LITERALLY listen to at least 10 topics of monologue.
It was not a conversation.
I had been a little nervous about how our chat today might go on the heels of the Supreme Court ruling.
But no equal rights topic came up. Thank goodness. I wasn’t ready to debate him.
Remember? I’m sleepy.
So I just walked by him (in time to see him folding his Y-Fronts – that was something I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing) and grabbed a cup of coffee.
Standing there, you get to see a little ‘behind the scenes’. Doesn’t that press look like a sun-bed?
Anyway.
I’m caffeinated now.
Glaucoma man is gone.
And I’m still super sleepy.
It’s quiet.
Cool.
Peaceful.
And if you were here, reader, I would ask, “Is my ear bleeding? It feels like it may be bleeding.”
Too much information – too much of a barrage of points of view.
But I’ll keep listening.
Glaucoma man needs someone to listen.
Musings from the Laundromat: Threads and Tales edition
I’m here early. And as usual, glaucoma man was here before me. It was just he and I and the laundry lady.
First words out of his mouth: “Oh here you are! I was just telling her about that Bruce Jenner.”
Oh boy I thought … because I already know where he stands on a lot of topics and they are – um – antiquated points of view.
Him: I don’t know why he had to go and do that, he had a perfectly good life!
Me: Well, he felt he is a woman.
Him: He’s going to have a hard time finding high heels – he has size 13 feet! (Hearty laugh ensues)
Me: Well, I have size 10 feet.
Him: He doesn’t even LOOK like a woman!
Me: It happens, he needed to do this to be happy. (I sustained from using ‘she’ considering who I was talking to – pronouns were the least of my conversational concerns.)
Then I used coffee as a reason to excuse myself.
Laundry lady: Doesn’t he drive you crazy?
Me: Nah … he’s lonely.
Laundry lady: He drives ME crazy, he tells the same stories over and over again.
Me: Well, I put myself in his shoes, and know I’d want someone to listen to my same stories if I was lonely.
Laundry lady: Yeah, but he shoves past me when I am trying to open.
Me: Well, that’s not good. You open early to accommodate people.
Laundry lady: Sometimes, if it’s just him outside … I make him wait.
I tried not to laugh. I mean, the laundromat opens at 8 and she will open at 7:30 sometimes. She doesn’t have to do that. So she’s well within her rights to keep that door closed until 8 O’Clock exactly. But I remembered all the customers that have given her grief that I’ve witnessed, and that’s only a tiny fraction of what goes on.
The way she said “I make him wait” in a confessional stage whisper just tickled me though.
The only power she had – she used.
Our chat was paused when a lady came up to the counter counting change and mentioning waiting for a Western Union from her daughter. I’ve counted change more times than I care to remember, and while money is super tight right now, I did still have a few dollar bills in my wallet. I offered them to her.
Turned out she had enough.
I returned to my table.
Then Mr. Same Old Stories surprised me.
Him: Not a lot of men in here today, Fathers Day. Looks like woman’s day.
(That didn’t make much sense to me, but I kept listening.)
Him: I’ve got to call my son later –
Me: Oh! Happy Father’s Day!
Him: Thanks. He doesn’t call me. Haven’t seen him in over six years. His wife controls him. She’s ten years older than him. He found himself a ‘mommy’. His mom died when he was one.
Me: Oh! I’m so sorry.
Him: That’s ok. I was never really a good dad. He doesn’t owe me anything.
And I sat there – and he walked off to fold his clothes.
And as I sat, I thought about the lives people have led. The reasons behind their loneliness. The need to retell the good stories.
The desire for companionship. To have a familiar face show up and to look forward to that brief interaction.
Laundry lady confided in me too. Turns out she lost her father seven years ago. She flew out for the funeral, across country, only to find herself at a party disguised as a memorial – and not once was her father mentioned.
Me: Well, you made the effort.
Her: Yeah.
There was sadness in her eyes. Regret. And I wanted to hug her.
There are so many stories here. SO many threads and colors and sizes. Not just in the washing machines, but sitting beside me and in front of me.
So I’ll continue to listen.
And to muse.
Musings from the Laundromat: Loud Little Red & Quiet Pink Edition
First 15 minutes in here were jarring.
I’m literally in the shirt I slept in, hair thrown into a braid. This after my intended replied to my “I’m tired …” with “Yeah, you look tired.”
Don’t you love that?
Even worse, is when someone gives you an unsolicited “You look tired.” Which, basically translates to “You look like crap today.” In Amandapedia.
Anyway, I KNEW if I didn’t just run inside the house (ok, it was more of a shuffle) – throw shorts on and tame my mane and grab the laundry, it was NOT going to get done.
So I’m still half asleep as I enter and am greeted by what sounded like a Chuckie Cheese.
Radio blaring, children playing a land version of “Marco!” “Polo!” The assault on my tired little ears was … as I said, jarring.
Here’s one of the little ones – (I blurred her cute little face because I don’t think pictures of kids should be randomly thrown up on a stranger’s site.)
Little Red Riding tu-tu.
And another tyke in the background.
And a rare sighting of my laundry lady in the back.
Then it suddenly and blessedly got very, very quiet.
Ahhhhh.
So, why am I so tired?
Well, certainly wasn’t because I scrubbed the entire house as planned yesterday.
I did something I haven’t done in YEARS. Friday my honey and I stayed up until 5 flipping a.m. By choice. We had a lot of fun, but I have got to tell you, my body does not recuperate the way it used to.
I’m old now!
Well, too old for that shite anyway.
And I knew it would happen, I knew I’d only sleep for a few hours and then answer the maternal call of my tired body. There were animals to be fed, walked – there was food to be made. And yeah, ok, then I binge watched the Real Housewives of New York. (Shame is washing over me just typing that.)
Then … CRASH! I ended up sleeping away the rest of the day.
(Not before burning the roof of my mouth on a pizza that my refreshed, newly awoken honey prepared for us.)
__________________________
So here I am, clothes in dryer now. Polystyrene coffee to my right and … new children in front of me.
But, to their credit,they’re being very well-behaved.
Hozier is belting out ‘Take me to Church’ in the background. And in 10 minutes, I’ll be folding and then returning to my nest.
I’ll do something constructive around the house when I get back to assuage any guilt of planning another nap later.
It IS the weekend after all.
Musing from the Laundromat: Memorial Monday Edition
It’s quiet. It’s Monday. And I’ m here.
There’s a different laundry lady today, and I’m sad I missed my usual one.
There’s something missing from the atmosphere today.
The room feels like a piece of gum that lost its flavor. Bland and more like a chore than an excursion. Then I remind myself, ‘well, it IS a laundromat.’
And I’m wishing I had waited for the coffee to brew before I left the house, because the pot here is as empty as the air is of excitement.
____________________
So now I’ve shared my first world problems with you – let’s take a moment to honor what today is all about.
THANK YOU to all who have served their country.
THANK YOU to the men and women who thought protecting the freedom and way of life of their families, friends and complete strangers was worth fighting for.
Worth dying for.
My honey and I spent some time with the neighbors last night. We were invited to join them for some cocktails and to enjoy their vantage point to see the firework. It was a lovely night.
And while America is not my country of origin, I just couldn’t help getting goosebumps when the red, white and blue exploded in the sky.
Like giant, electric dandelions.
This English girl was feeling quite patriotic.
Then I had my usual thought when I hear fireworks – that there are children hearing that same “BOOM!”, only, there are no pretty colors falling from the sky … no ‘OOos’ and ‘Ahhh’s!’ Just … fear.
And our men and women are there too.
And trying to bring an end to the unrest and ever familiar assault on towns – bombs getting closer and closer to that child who’s grown up hearing the chaos.
And here I’m wishing I had a cup of coffee.
Such ridiculousness.
So again, THANK YOU to those who have given of themselves for a better today, and THANK YOU to those serving now for a better tomorrow.
Musings from the laundromat: Double Loads and Spilled Coffee
Got here an hour later than usual. I was greeted by a different crowd – ok, they didn’t technically ‘greet’ me … actually, it’s kind of odd here today. No one is smiling.
Everyone is pretty much keeping to themselves.
Lonesome Laundering.
ALL of the machines I like to use were mysteriously occupied, and I say ‘mysteriously’ because the ratio of actual humans in process of laundering, versus amount of machines didn’t make sense. Although, math never was my strong suit, so I’ll let the mystery be.
Shoved all my stuff in the ‘double load’ machines. Grrrr. I call bullshit on that label. First of all, you get as much in the ‘double’ load as you do in the ‘single load’. And they charge whatever the difference is between $2.25 and $1.65. Ok, I DO know this one … 60 extra cents! Highway robbery.
Anyway, after I’d stuffed the two machines … I wandered over to the counter area in search of coffee. Had just finished stirring in my powdered packet of creamer – AND gloriously knocked the entire cup over, which, went in the direction of the laundry lady’s work area.
Me: I’m SO sorry … I spilled!
Her: It’s ok, I was getting bored anyway
Me: Well, I’m sure this wasn’t on your dream list of things to occupy your time with …
She didn’t disagree, and I felt awful. Just horrible.
I helped clean up, then slinked off with another cup.
The dryer has stopped – think I’ll cut my losses, fold and get out of here before I spill something else.
Until the next Musing … have a great week – and don’t forget to eat your veggies!
Debauchery Soup 